Los Angeles daily herald., 1887-09-16
DAILY HERALD.
A ROUGH TRIP.
A Reporters Enterprise is
UnreWarded.
THREE MILES ON FOOT,
Along Dark and Rocky Road
After an Uncertain Murder
Story.

Not many weeks ago news was re
ceiyed in this city in the afternoon tt
the effect that murder had beer
committed near Kent station, jus
above Newhall. Coroner Meredith
started on the next train, but it was
quite late before the reporter OF the
HERALD heard of the case. With thai
energy known only to the members O.
his profession he boarded the next
train for the scene of bloodshed. Al
about 10 O'Clock P. NJ. Kent was
reached and the train was stopped Ia
street-car to permit the solitary pas.
senger to get off. OF course the news
paper man expected to find a depot,
at least, but as he bounded out into
total darkness he was dumbfounded
to find that there was not even post in
sight. The train sped on, and as the
last rays from the cheering lights OF
the coaches disappeared from view
around the bend of the road, the I'M
fortunate reporter fell upon the ground
paralyzed with fear, and no doubt felt
like Robinson Crusoe when cast upon
the desert island. A murder was
what he was in search Of, however.
and a murder he must have at all
hazards. Regaining his feet he looked
around for a house, but none was to
be seen. He then started off straight
ahead without the slightest idea where
he was or where he was going. After
travelling about a mile perhaps, he
came to washout on Gravel creek
bottom, when it occurred to him that
by following it, it might possibly lead
him from the God forsaken place where
he was standing to more congenial
and perhaps better populated district.
After traversing about hundred
yards along the trail a most dismal
series of howls and whines attracted
the travellers attention. He hesitated
for few moments before venturing
any further. He finally decided that
thew were coyotes and that there was
no immediate danger. He had not
gone far before it dawned upon him
that he was tired. He sat down to
rest, but it occurred to him that if he
were to fall asleep the beasts would
iced upon his emaciated frame. lie
found consolation in knowing that the
animals would die in that event, but
nevertheless he marched onward ON
his Journey. Hehowled and whistled,
and presently was rewarded by hear
ing the barkingof dogs in the distance.
He took courage and marched ahead
in the direction of the sounds. He
finally arrived near small farm
house, from the window of which rays
of light came peeping out into the
dismal darkness. A herd of shepherd
dogs met him in anything but hos
pitable way, and it took considerable
strategy to stand them off. Hearing
the commotion outside, bald head
and uble-barrelled shotgun poked
themselves out of the window stimuli
taneously. The old man asked,
s'Who's there?' When reassured
that it was only lost and foot-sore
traveller, he opened the door and in
vited his visitor to a seat. When told
that murder had been committed in
his midst, the few stray hairs on his
Uranium stood on end, and numerous
were the queries which he hurled at
the breathless scribe. His visitor
used every device to arouse his curl
osity, which was successfully done,
and he was prevailed upon to hitch
up his team so as to investigate the
matter. After lonesome drive of
over eight miles in the direction in
which he had seen a strange man 60
ing earlier in the day, presumably the
Coroner, an Italian wood-chopper's g
camp was reached. All was quiet
and still around, but the foghorn
snores of the workmen soon suggested
the "bunk-house. The door was
found unlocked and the pair of un-
ceremonious callers dropped inside.
Some of the men sat up in bed, while
Others fell on the floor with fright.
They were asked if they had heard
anything of murder, and the query
only added to their fright. One oi
their number, who spoke fair Eng
lish, told the reporter that man had
died about four miles distant on the
road toward Lang. He could not say,
though, whether the man had been
murdered or not. The journey was
continued and after about an hours s
drive an old log cabin, from which
the beams of a dim light appeared
from the crevices, was reached. A
rap at the door soon secured
an entrance and Chinaman proved
to be the host. On table lay the
emaciated form of man, at the head
of whom burned an old coal-oil lamp.
The house was in complete disorder,
and more dismal scene it would be
difficult to picture. ''When did he
die ?" asked the reporter.
"Him die last night. Heap sick.
too muchee consumption, you sabee, !"
replied the Chinaman.
The appearance OF thecorpse proved
the truth of the Mongolian's state
ment, and with heavy heart the
news gatherer again took his seat upon
the springless conveyance, The re-
turn drive was a long one, and the
road was somewhat like the "rocky
road to Dublin" When The house
was reached the reporter rolled into a
stack of hay and slept, blissfully
dreaming of the murder story he
didn't get. The ext morning he
arose early and walked to the station.
Arriving there he recognized the
gigantic foot prints of the Coroner on
the sand, and with a sigh regretted
that he did not take lantern along,
SO that he might have seen them the
night before and started off in the
right direction.